


Nom de Plume

by S_Faith



Category: Bridget Jones's Diary - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-28
Updated: 2011-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-24 21:10:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18169907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_Faith/pseuds/S_Faith
Summary: Choosing a pen name isn't as easy as you'd think it would be.





	Nom de Plume

**Author's Note:**

> To commemorate the sixteenth (!) anniversary of the first Bridget column. Additional note at the end. Since it's a little thing I just hosted it here on LJ.
> 
> Disclaimer: If Ms. Fielding ever sees these, let's hope she has a sense of humour about 'em.

"I think you should do it."

This was the last thing she had expected her husband to say. Snapped out of her post-coital daze, she reared back to look at him. "Really?"

His own brown eyes were half-lidded and he had a lazy smile on his lips. "Absolutely."

"But what about…" She trailed off. "You know." 

"One of the things I love about you," he said, "is that you say what's on your mind. Yes, sometimes it gets you into hot water, but they are things that usually need to be said."

She was worried about speaking her mind too; it was something she feared frequently, that she would say something that would inadvertently hurt someone she cared about. Spoken words were one thing. However—"But in print?"

"You're hardly likely to cause much trouble doing social commentary," he said. His smile became more pronounced as he added, "Just don't libel the prime minister."

"But I would not be able to show my face anywhere for days until I was sure I hadn't made a mess of things."

"If you're that worried," he murmured, "use a nom de plume."

This idea, she decided, had appeal. "A pen name," she said. A slow smile overtook her features. "Oh, that could be it, right there." She sat up cross-legged, pulling the sheet up around herself. "What could I use?"

"I think writing the article takes precedence, darling."

"No, I can't, not until I have my secret identity."

At this he laughed. "It isn't as if you are Batman."

"I could sort of be like Batman," she said. "Fighting social injustice."

"'Bruce Wayne' would be a bit too obvious."

"Oh, I want everyone to know I'm a girl," she said.

"Woman," he corrected. "Much to my delight."

"You know what I mean," she said with a pout. "I'm not teeming with testosterone." She then added quickly, "Not that this is inherently a bad thing. Obviously."

"Just not in you," he supplied.

"Exactly!" She laid back down on his chest, sighing. "Something clever would be good."

"I would expect nothing less." After a moment, he said, "How about the name of your favourite fictional character?"

She snorted a laugh. "That would be silly," she said. "I could hardly be Mr Darcy, a _man_ , particularly as I am now a Mrs Darcy."

"Excellent point," he said. "What about Elizabeth Bennet?"

"Too obviously fictional," she said. 

"To you, perhaps."

"To lots of people," she retorted. "Jane Austen is enjoying a renaissance of popularity."

"You would know better than I would," he conceded. "Any others?"

"Hmm," she said thoughtfully, considering a lifetime's worth of volumes of fiction that she had read. "There's too much to choose from. Maybe you could suggest something else."

"Something else besides fictional characters?"

"No, I mean something besides _Pride and Prejudice_."

He was quiet for a few more moments, breathing steadily in and out, a sign he was in contemplation. At last he spoke: "Oddly, perhaps of your shared name, I keep thinking of _Tom Jones_."

"Oh?" she said. "Well, there's Tom's love Sophia, but she's kind of a cow."

"Well. We shan't saddle you with a cow's name." He breathed in then out again. "Well, I suppose it is too self-referential to give you Tom's mother's name."

She pondered a moment, then began to laugh. "Just a bit," she said. "Unmarried girl of thirty-two called Bridget. Hits a bit too close to home."

"Not anymore."

"Well, no," she laughed.

He was a bit terrifying when he got into a serious thinking spell; sombre, far-away expression, tense jaw, fingers to lips. It struck a very odd contrast with his bare torso and tousled hair. "But that could be clever."

"What, making my nom de plume the same as my real name?"

"No," he said. "Making your pseudonym an homage to a fictional character you share a name with. Sort of an in-joke." He looked down to her. "Perhaps you could take the author's name," he said, then amended quickly, "I mean, play off the author's name. You wouldn't necessarily want to use it as-is, too obvious; not that he's likely to sue as he's long dead."

"And the author is a 'he'."

"There's that as well," he agreed.

She thought he was really onto something with this idea and said so.

"Perhaps," he said, "the same last name, and a lady's first name."

She sat bolt upright again, grinning madly. "Oh yes. Perfect," she said. "The same first initial even, as I have always been fond of the name 'Helen'."

………

A few weeks later, after the column was in full swing, he surprised her in his admission: "I want to tell the world that they're yours."

"Really?" she asked.

"Of course," he said. "I would especially like to see Horatio's face in reaction."

"You're not just being, you know, _supportive_ because you're obliged to be, as my husband and all."

"Be serious," he said with a frown. "You and I have never just agreed in order to be obliging."

She thought of some of their bigger disagreements. "True," she said. "Sorry."

"Anyway, I am hardly alone in my thinking they're good," he said.

They had indeed been fairly well-received, but she still could not get over the idea that everyone was humouring her, even if they didn't know the columns were hers.

"I'm not," he emphasised.

This was underscored when they went out the next day, just after the publication of the next column. Even she could not deny that the chatter around her wherever they were often referred to it in positive tones, though hearing disagreement did spur her into wishing she could defend herself or debate the point.

For his part, he looked as if he were bursting with pride with every comment they caught, positive or negative. "You see," he said quietly, "it is _not_ just me."

She allowed him the point, and acknowledged it with a smile.

"Do you think you'll come clean with your real identity?" he asked.

"After all the work we put into thinking of the pen name," she said, "I hardly want to expose myself already."

"But darling," he said, taking her hand and squeezing it, "you're so good at it: bunny girl, fireman's pole…"

She turned and playfully smacked him as she laughed.

_The end._

**Author's Note:**

> The novel [_The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling_](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_History_of_Tom_Jones,_a_Foundling) (or more commonly, _Tom Jones_ ) was written by Henry Fielding. Tom's mother really is an unmarried thirty-two-year-old named Bridget (although not the surname Jones). It was published on 28 February 1749. 246 years later to the date, the Bridget Jones column debuted in _The Independent_ ; at first there was no author attribution, and everyone thought that it was a biographical diary of a real girl called Bridget. It was not until after fellow novelists gave the column praise that Helen Fielding stepped forward to claim the by-line.


End file.
